Ella
The sun’s late afternoon light spilled into my office, casting long golden fingers over the documents I had meticulously drafted the previous night and spent all morning working on. I sipped on a cup of coffee, its bitter tang juxtaposed against the heavy sweetness of my lingering doubt.
Instead of spending the day working on my case with Logan, which I should have been doing, I spent it writing up this contract. Every word, every line, every clause had to be absolutely perfect. I had to protect myself, and this was the best way that I knew how.
But in reality, what was I really doing? Could a simple contract—a piece of paper—really guarantee my safety in a world so deeply entrenched in intrigue and power plays?
Of course, Logan was late. He was supposed to meet me at
